by Diana Fraser
She heard the footsteps retreat. She lay back and waited for her heart to steady. She took deep breaths and tried to keep her mind on track. Her bags were packed. Alex had responded to her text and luckily, his boat would dock first thing in the morning. She’d be on it before breakfast. They’d be sailing later that night.
Still her heart pounded. She got out of bed, poured herself a glass of water and went to the open window to breathe in the cooler night air. It was then that she saw him coming toward her.
“What the hell are you doing? Can’t I have any privacy?”
“No.” He continued walking up to her.
She slapped her hand against his chest. “Go away Razeen, I don’t want you here.”
He ignored her and grabbed her hands. “And what did you think of the beautiful Neelam?”
“You’re mad if you ever think she’ll help you move this country forward. You’re crazy. She’s not what you need.”
“Then who is?”
She shook her head. “Go away, Razeen.”
She couldn’t see his expression in the starlight but she sensed he was frustrated and angry.
“I want you to come with me. I have something to show you.” It was as if she’d never spoken.
“Do I have a choice?”
“At last you are understanding the power of the sheikh,” he said facetiously.
She pulled her hands away from his grasp and threw on a robe.
“This way.”
He led her through darkened halls to a corner of his private quarters she’d not visited before. He opened the door for her to enter and closed it behind them both. She was momentarily swallowed up in darkness until Razeen switched on a small lamp. Despite the anger she was awed. She turned around on the spot, her gaze shifting from the priceless artworks on the walls to the intricately worked ceiling. While it was as richly decorated as the rest of the palace, it was on a smaller, more intimate scale. It wasn’t a place to impress people, it was a place to appreciate its treasures.
“It’s beautiful.” Lucy’s voice was hushed as she walked around the bijoux room.
“It was my mother’s. She was English.”
Razeen became more of a stranger to her with each passing hour. She realized she knew nothing about him. She sighed and looked down at the priceless rug, suddenly feeling defeated. “I thought your parents were both from Sitra.”
“No. My father was educated at Eton and Oxford and fell in love with a society beauty.”
There was a sadness behind Razeen’s even tone that made her look up. “What happened?”
“She had two children—my brother and me—and died alone and unhappy. She was never accepted into Sitra and my father grew to resent that. He lost a lot of support over it. He increasingly turned his back on the West, kept Sitra isolated. They both grew bitter. It was not a happy place to grow up in. My mother was deeply unhappy.”
“Why didn’t she return to England?”
“Because that would have been even worse for my father. It would have brought great shame to him and to the kingdom. She sacrificed her happiness for my brother’s future as King.”
“Not your future.”
“No, not mine. It was always about the future of Sitra and so, it was always about my brother.”
She walked over to a table upon which photographs were placed. She picked one up. “She was beautiful.” She replaced the photograph and picked up another, of Razeen and his brother. “And you were very cute.”
“Just ‘were’?” She turned to find him behind her, a ghost of a smile resting on his lips.
“Searching for compliments?”
There was no humor in his eyes now. “Lucy, do you see what I’m trying to tell you? This is no place for a western woman. There can be no future for us.”
She replaced the photograph carefully on the table. “Your mother and father made mistakes. They were different people to us. You’re right but for the wrong reasons. There is no future for us because I’ll be leaving in the morning.”
“I’m sorry, Lucy. It was never meant to be this way.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips so gently, that all resolve disintegrated.
She swallowed as she dropped her gaze to his lips. She licked her own. “How was it meant to be?”
“You, passing through; me, a brief reprieve before I was dragged down by duty.”
She raised her eyes to his and at the sight of the pain that dwelled there she placed her hand on his chest, above his heart. “But that is surely still what is happening. I’m leaving tomorrow morning; you’re going to be doing your duty.”
“Yes, you’re right. That is still what’s happening on the surface. But inside?” He curled his fingers under her chin and swept his thumb over her bottom lip. “I knew there was a risk I might end up wanting something—someone—I could never have and that was a risk I was prepared to take. But I never wanted to hurt you.”
She dropped her gaze and he took the step across the space between them and pressed her head against his chest, his arms cradling her body as he kissed the top of her hair.
“And I think I have. I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
She closed her eyes as she breathed him in, her lips grazing his neck. “Forget about me. You can’t marry her, Razeen. She’s not best for this country; she’s not best for you.”
“Now there you are at great variance to all my advisers.”
“Then dismiss them. They’re wrong.”
He shook his head and pulled away from her. “No, they’re not. They know Sitra and they know the Sitran people. My country needs reform and my people demand a traditional King.”
“Have you asked your people what they want? Have you? Or is it just a few advisors you’re relying on. Razeen, you need to get out there amongst your people, find out what’s happening, discover what they want. Look at my sister, she’s going to make a huge difference to the people she lives with. You think they won’t appreciate that? Look at me,” she slammed her fist into her chest, repeatedly, trying to control the passion that threatened to overflow. “Look at me, look at how the women in the market have accepted me. Doesn’t that count for more than being of the right blood?”
“I wish it were that simple.”
“It is, Razeen, it is.”
“You don’t understand, Lucy. You’ve been here a week and you think you know the situation better than me? Than my advisers? Come on, even you cannot be that naive.”
She drew her arms defensively in front of her, suddenly feeling cold. “Well, if you’ve quite finished I’ll go back to bed. I’ve an early morning start.” She stepped awkwardly away and walked briskly to the door.
“I’m sorry—”
She held up her hand to stop him from speaking any further. She couldn’t turn to him, couldn’t face him. “Don’t. Just let me go.”
“I cannot make my own choices any more, my life is not my own.”
“I seem to remember you telling me that it wasn’t madness for Maia to freely choose where she wished to be.”
“But I am not free to choose. You must understand.”
“I can’t see it makes much difference whether I understand or not.” She turned to face him, needing to know. “But tell me, Razeen, if you were free, what, or who would you choose?”
The silence lay heavy between them. Razeen didn’t speak, only looked at her with an expression she couldn’t read.
“I see.” She turned away.
“I’m sorry, Lucy, that things can’t be different.”
The slam of the door echoed through the sleeping palace and Razeen closed his eyes as the pain washed through him. There was no doubt in his mind that they had no future together. There were so many reasons he couldn’t be with Lucy. No responsible man would have done otherwise. It was not only necessary for the future of the kingdom but he couldn’t go back on the word he’d given to his future wife and her family.
And, he thought as he picked up the photo of his mother, it was necess
ary for Lucy’s future happiness. He knew what his mother’s life had become; he knew how unhappy she’d been. And he also knew how much his parents had been in love initially. He picked up another photo of them on their wedding day. His father was unrecognizable: his face bright and happy. There was nothing to indicate the tyrant he would become. Even love couldn’t withstand such pressure.
He replaced the photos but continued to stare at the photograph of his mother, the details obscured under the hollow glare of the lamp. His eyes stung as he stared unblinking at the photo. But he’d ceased to see his mother and saw, instead, Lucy’s face—tense and hurt. Without taking his eyes from the photo he groped for the light switch and turned it off. His mother’s face was no longer visible: but Lucy’s face haunted him still.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lucy lay back on the sun lounger and sighed. She’d spent all morning in the boat’s galley preparing dinner and it felt good to have the sun’s rays on her body again. She closed her eyes and flipped her sunglasses onto her nose.
A shadow fell over her body. She didn’t bother opening her eyes; it could only be Alex. The others were all eating.
“Hey, you’re in my sun.”
“You’ll be getting plenty of sun soon.”
“I’ll be covered from head to foot with an abaya and my tan will suffer.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Hadn’t thought of it like that.” He paused, hesitant and Lucy opened her eyes and turned to him.
“What’s up? Want to persuade me to stay?”
He grinned. “Now, I know that wouldn’t work. You’ll be with your sister for the birth of her child come hell or high water.”
“Yep. And I want to get there a few days early. She’s not due for another week but I don’t want to miss out. I figure I’ll hang around for a while after the birth to help out and then I’ll leave.”
“There’s always a job here, if you want one.”
“You’re too good to me. You’ve found a replacement chef now. You don’t need me.”
“I could have two cooks. Sounds good to me.”
“You don’t need two. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. There’s always work in the Caribbean. I’ll try there first.”
“You may want to stay in Sitra.”
She looked out across the sea she loved so much for its ever-changing moods and constant movement. “No, I won’t. I never stay long in one place. I don’t do ‘permanent.’”
“I thought Razeen might have changed your mind on that point.”
“He’s not interested. I don’t know why you think he is. Anyway, he has nothing to do with my reason for returning. I’m there for Maia and that’s all.”
“He is interested, Lucy. Of course he is.”
“No ‘of course’ about it.”
“He told me.”
Her head snapped round. “What?”
“Razeen is my friend, Lucy, we stay in touch. Particularly after the debacle of the wedding.” He paused. “Do you want to know what happened?”
“No.” She gnawed the inside of her lip to hide her uncertainty. “I know the bare essentials, that’s quite enough.”
“Shame.”
There was a long pause while Alex walked to the mast and yanked a knot a bit tighter. Lucy tried to keep her curiosity tamped down. She fidgeted with her hands, crossed and uncrossed her ankles and then took a deep breath knowing that Alex wasn’t going to go away until she’d asked.
“I shouldn’t think there’s much more to be said.”
“Shouldn’t think so,” he agreed.
“I know the marriage didn’t happen. But as to why? Who knows?” Again a teasing silence. “Alex?”
“I might know.”
“Damn it, Alex, tell me. What happened? Who called it off? Was it Razeen?” She knew it had to have been. After all, he was the one with the power and the one who had no love for his fiancée.
Alex shook his head. “No, it wasn’t Razeen.”
Lucy sat bolt upright, her sunglasses falling to the wooden deck with a clatter.
“What?”
“His fiancée called it off. Seems she was more enamored with a life outside Sitra than one in it. She’s in Paris now, studying at the Sorbonne.”
“He’d have gone through with it then.” The words emerged on a rush of exhaled air. Disappointment bit deep. She’d believed he’d listened to her and called it off. But he hadn’t. It had been the shy and intelligent girl who’d made the break.
“Yes, he’d have gone through with it. He’s very serious about his responsibilities. You should know that.”
“Yes,” she chewed her lip and glanced away. “I do.”
She made herself lie back. Alex walked over to the railing and peered out at the horizon with narrowed eyes. There was only the lapping of the water against the boat and the occasional shout and background chatter of the crew eating lunch in the cabin to break the lengthening silence.
“I thought you two were pretty well suited, you know.”
“Did you?” She tried to sound unconcerned.
“Yeah, I reckon you could have made a good go of it together.”
“Umm. Obviously he didn’t share that view.”
“What makes you say that?”
She sat up and sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps the way he was determined to marry someone else?”
“Well, he didn’t.”
“Not through his own choice. And then there’s the fact that, after his marriage didn’t happen, he chose not to contact me. You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to make a reasonable deduction that he’s not interested in me.”
“Or that he believes any advance from him wouldn’t be welcome. And then there’s his family history. Come on, Luce, you know what happened to his mother. He adored her and she just retreated, left him to it because she couldn’t handle life in Sitra. He’s terrified if he marries someone from outside his country, the same thing would happen. And he can’t do that to someone he loves.”
“Someone he loves…” she repeated faintly.
“Look, all I’m saying is, give him a chance. When you get to Sitra and see him—”
“I won’t be seeing him. Maia’s made arrangements for me to stay in an apartment in the city. I won’t be going anywhere near the palace. He doesn’t even know I’m going to Sitra.”
“When you see him,” Alex continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “give him a chance.”
“I gave him a chance, Alex,” she said quietly, “and he didn’t take it. He doesn’t want me.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Perhaps I should rephrase it. He might want me—I don’t know—but he won’t have me. End of story.”
“Not yet it’s not.” Alex grinned and walked back inside the cabin.
The heat hit Lucy like a wall as she left the airport terminal and she was thankful she’d bought a lightweight abaya and nijab. With her dark hair, tan and kohled eyes she hoped she’d fit in and, from the way no one was looking at her, she did.
As she walked toward the small taxi rank she passed a luxurious car whose driver stood, hands on hips, scanning the people leaving the flight with great care. She recognized him; he was from the palace. She put her head down and kept on walking. The thought that Razeen might have been alerted to her return and had sent the driver to collect her, briefly flashed through her mind. But she kept on walking. He’d made it clear he didn’t want her so why on earth would he have sent someone for her?
She jumped into a taxicab and gave him the address in the city she’d been given. Within ten minutes they were crawling through the busy, closely built old quarter. He parked outside one of the merchant’s houses and pointed. After collecting the key from the family who both lived and worked in the shop downstairs she went up the rickety steps to the first-floor apartment.
It was surprisingly beautiful—the furniture was obviously expensive—and great thought had been given to every detail: from the fully stocked refriger
ator and cupboards to the bed, which was made up in snowy white linen. She trailed her hand along the highly polished table and opened the windows wide.
The views were amazing. The city spread out before her, its roofs, arched windows and peeling walls, all soft ochre and terra cotta, like so many daubs of water color paint on a canvas. Beyond the tumble of buildings lay the bay. She felt if she reached out she’d touch the blue, and feel the cool water. Just seeing the sea again made her feel more comfortable. The sound of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer echoed over the city and the spicy aroma of coffee wafted up from the cafe below. It was perfect. And she always had to share perfect.
She reached for her phone and found a message from Maia. All was well and she’d be arriving in the city later the next day. Lucy softly blew out a tense breath. She was nervous for Maia but was reassured by her breezy message.
And a day to herself would give her a chance to visit Aakifah and her family. Maia had received one brief, formal letter from Aakifah letting her know that a doctor had called and given them the medicine her sister needed. Not only that, but clinics had been set up around the city where treatment was provided free and research was being conducted into some of the more common ailments. Maia hadn’t needed a letter from Aakifah to know this would happen. She knew Razeen wouldn’t let her down; she knew he wanted to do the absolute best for his people, no matter what the personal cost.
She rubbed her chest with the heel of her hand. It hurt. No matter what she told Alex, Razeen’s rejection of her hurt bad. Even overseas he’d haunted her mind every minute of every day. But here, surrounded by the sights and sounds of Sitra, it was more intense. The smell of the coffee reminded her of the taste of it on his lips; the glittering turquoise of the sea reminded her of making love to him in the surf: his body, so strong and lithe, holding her against him. She turned away from the sea. She had to get out. She swept up her bag and walked across to the door when the sound of a bell ringing loudly in the apartment stopped her in her tracks. She went down the stairs slowly and paused, before she lifted her shaking hand to the lock and opened the door wide.